Capital of Portugal, headquarters of the British army on the Peninsular. A pleasant, sprawling, Mediterranean city that feels the shadow of war. Especially with troops on the streets, supply wagons rolling out to the frontlines orders being sent out to officers. Here important decisions are made but are they the right ones?

"Thank you"Richard said and stepped through."Well,this is where we find out If were to be posted as soldiers ready to fight Frencie,or merely lambs for the slaughter."he chuckled."Lets hope its not the latter.My men and I wouldn't mind a fair fight"

Thomas was led to the garrison commander's office, which was flurry of activity as various haggard-looking clerks pored over list after list of men, wages and supplies. At the far end of the room was the commander's desk. There he sat; signing documents and discussing something with the head-clerk.

Thomas approached. "Excuse me Sir," he asked, "Do you know where we are assigned?"

"Seems so, your sharpshooters are generally available to which Battalion needs your help the most. Right now it's the 124th Highlanders, they leave Lisbon two days from now. Both of you will need to report to the Battalion's commander: Major-General Mackintosh."

"Where might we find the Battalion?" asked Thomas.

"They're on the outskirts, head west from here until you start seeing lots of soldiers in kilts."

"So we are to be fighting with the scots"he mused."I think this might come in handy"Richard produced a compass from his pocket.He tossed it to Thomas and winked."No need to thank me,its your birthday present" he grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

Soon he saw a hill on the top of which was a large group of tents, in a rough square shape. Most of the officers seemed to be in the tents, as most of the activity he could see was from the men. Groups of them were cooking, talking and there was a Rugby match under way too. He approached the encampment.